Chapter 22

"So, why haven't you shown me your room before, Draco?" Hermione asked as she allowed herself to be led up the ostentatious marble staircase to where her lover's bedroom was ostensibly located.

"I don't let many people see it," he admitted, stopping in front of a large set of double doors. It wasn't exactly close to her own room, but the Manor was so large that they could occupy various corners and probably never see one another.

"Why not?" she asked, curious. Draco's hand was warm and reassuring in hers and his smile was endearingly hesitant. She briefly wondered if maybe the walls were decked in chains and leather and instruments of torture, or perhaps the decor was taken from the illustrated pages of Beedle the Bard. Surely there was no such explanation for his reticence.

"No real reason," he answered casually, opening the doors and stepping inside. "Just a private person, I suppose."

Hermione followed him in, finding herself more shocked at the absolute ordinariness of the room than any strange motif her over-imaginative mind could have dreamt up.

The walls were as dark as beige could be without being tan or sand or some other variation of not-white. The furniture was all matching, as was true throughout the Manor. An armoire, tallboy dresser, vanity table and bench, low dresser, poster bed, bedside tables and several oblong mirrors were all of a rich cherry wood. Like her own room, his had a sitting area centred around a fireplace, the loveseat and armchairs a rich brown leather, more supple than the stiff leather Lucius seemed to favour in his study.

It looked... comfortable. Wholly inhabitable. Hermione wasn't sure what she'd been expecting (Slytherin green, silver and black with snakes everywhere, her mind supplied), but it hadn't been this classy and understated style.

"Wow, Draco... you have great taste," she said, admiring the vanity. Surprisingly, it didn't look well-used. Books were stacked on the surface and the mirror was almost entirely covered in photographs and mementoes. She wondered if she would seem rude to peruse the photos, and decided to do so at a later time. She did catch glimpses of Blaise Zabini's smiling face, and a few of Narcissa and Lucius, but not in the same frame.

"Thank you," he said simply. "Actually, my mother mostly decorated it as a gift for my seventeenth birthday. Before that, it was a little less... adult. Quidditch posters and the like," he said smiling, crossing his arms and looking as though he was trying to picture the room through Hermione's eyes.

She nodded, still looking around. He had at least five doors in his bedroom, and Hermione wondered where they led. Bathroom, closet, main doors... maybe a balcony like hers? And another closet? If anyone's wardrobe warranted two closets, it was Draco Malfoy's.

He came up behind her, arms encircling her waist. A kiss was placed on her ear, and he whispered, "Want to see the bed?"

His subtlety knew no bounds. Hermione wondered how Lucius would respond to such an obvious seduction. Instead of saying that, she innocently replied, "I see it. It's very lovely."

Draco chuckled softly, turning her to face him. His hand snaked around to cup the back of her neck, tilting her head up to receive his kiss. His lips moved slowly against hers, as though he was trying to hold himself back. Hermione parted her lips, no longer willing to tease, and he made a low growl in his throat, immediately deepening the kiss.

His arm slipped around her waist to pull her hard against him, and she shivered at feeling his hardness press insistently against her belly.

"I really think you ought to see my bed," he said in a low voice.

She only nodded in agreement, and he led her over, parting the silky curtains and pressing her down onto the bed. The sheets and coverlet were all black silk, and Hermione moaned at the decadence. The silk felt like sin against her skin, and she suddenly wished she was naked.

Draco's gaze upon her made her realize that she wasn't the only one with that wish, his eyes making a mockery of her modesty. He lowered himself over her body, shifting them to the centre of the massive bed. His blond hair fell in a sheet over his cheek, and Hermione dazedly pushed it behind his ear. He turned his mouth to press his lips against her palm, kissing her lightly and flicking his tongue out to taste her hand.

"Tease," she whispered, writhing a little under his heavier body. He seemed to agree with her assessment, because he immediately set to work disrobing her. Only when she remained in her bra and panties did he allow her to return the favour. As she had with Lucius, she undressed him slowly, savouring each inch of skin as it was revealed to her. His skin against the black sheets was so white that he seemed to glow. The light in the room was negligible, only the fire truly breaking through the canopy to cast erotic dancing shadows on the curtains.

Once he was naked, Hermione pulled back a little to admire him. He truly was perfect. The only scar she could see was the one on his arm, a thin slice of pearl against white. She realized it was from the owl that had attacked him in their office before they'd realized their magic was causing problems. The scar was sort of the precursor to everything that had happened, and she felt obliged to pay it homage. She pressed her lips against it, barely feeling where the skin was raised, even when her tongue snaked out to explore.

"Now who's teasing?" Draco tried to drawl, but the thickness in his voice belied his casualness.

In answer, Hermione reached behind her back to unclip her bra. Draco's tongue came out to lick his lips, and she smiled, wondering if he did that consciously. Both Draco and his father had the uncanny ability to make her feel absolutely stunning and desirable. She had never felt more beautiful than in the short time she'd been at the Manor.

"Amazing," Draco whispered, as though hearing her thoughts. He pulled her down onto the bed next to him, his hand lightly cupping her breast before he leaned in to kiss her. As always, his mouth left her reeling, and it was no less true when his kisses moved to her breast instead.

She moaned when he traced her taut nipple with his tongue, nipping it once it had hardened enough to merit such treatment. His hand moved inexorably between her thighs, moving quickly to meet her steadily rising arousal. When his fingers slipped inside her, Hermione cried out, only just then remembering that she should participate more than just making appreciative noises. Something about Draco's sure but not-quite-expert lovemaking made her lose her head.

She lowered her hand to grip his cock, swallowing the groan that her movement elicited. His kisses became more passionate as her hand stroked him. Her thumb flicked over the head of his cock, using the slickness there to ease her movements. Draco gasped against her mouth in appreciation, and Hermione decided that participating was just as good as enjoying.

"Draco, now," she urged, parting her thighs further in invitation. As soon as the words left her mouth, Draco rose up and settled between her knees. Removing his fingers from her brought a soft, disappointed sound that she hadn't quite been able to hold back, but when his serious features melted into a grin, she knew her noises were welcomed.

He leaned over her supine form, bracing himself on his elbows beside her head. She felt caged in, but never more safe.

"Gods, Hermione, it's so hard to hold back, so hard not to just..." he trailed off, pressing kisses against her throat. She could feel the heat of his cock so close to her entrance that she almost cried.

"Why hold back?" she asked, sounding a little desperate. She moved her hips and rejoiced when she felt the head of his cock slide against her. "You know I want you. Want this."

Draco groaned, biting the flesh on her neck and worrying it gently between his teeth. "Want it to last," he confessed, a warm sigh gracing her wet skin and making her shudder.

"Don't want to wait," she insisted, knowing it wouldn't take long at all for her climax to reach her.

Taking her words as truth, Draco aligned himself at her entrance and slowly slid in. He filled her so perfectly, so slowly, so completely, that Hermione's eyes fell closed and her body melted into his touch.

"Fuck," he grunted, grabbing her leg and wrapping it around his waist. She took the hint and encircled his waist with her thighs, locking her ankles and using them to make him move faster. His thrusts were deep and hard, making her cry out with abandon. His kisses were the only thing centring her, and she met his mouth with desperation.

"Draco," she moaned, moving a hand to finger her clit lightly, quickly bringing her orgasm to the surface. When she came, she shouted his name again, clenching down around him as her body tightened and the pulsing tension rocked her.

Draco thrust into her for only a few moments before biting down rather sharply on her shoulder and grinding deeply into her still-throbbing sheath. A long groan escaped him and he exhaled sharply, body pumping lightly as he filled her.

Hermione held him there for as long as he would allow it. But he made to move off of her, and she had to bring her legs down. They felt stiff and slightly cramped, but it was worth it to have Draco so near to her.

"Stay here tonight?" Draco said, pulling Hermione's pliant body into an embrace. He pulled the covers over both of them, not waiting for an answer.

"Draco?" she said softly, curling up into his warm, hard body.

"Hmm?"

"Why don't you let many people see your room? I mean, you must have had friends over... lovers...."

Draco pushed an unruly curl away from Hermione's face, kissing her temple. He sighed quietly and looked up at the top of the canopy.

"I never really thought about it. When my friends came over, they always stayed in one of the guest rooms. During the day, we were always outside or in one of the play rooms. And later... well, anyone I had over generally didn't stay the night."

Hermione pondered this. "Am I the first person to stay, then?"

Draco was quiet for a minute, but he pulled her even tighter against his chest and whispered, "Yes."

Satisfied and slightly surprised, Hermione let the night take her under, safe in the arms of a man who continued to take her breath away.

When Friday finally came, Hermione only knew it because of the lack of work in the in-box on her desk. Her colleagues were fairly adamant about leaving weekends free from work unless a big client made a request for a meeting, and when that happened, it was almost always Hermione or Draco who were trusted to handle the project.

Hermione had been working overtime trying to gain enough recognition for the Werewolf Emancipation Project, taking it upon herself to visit other floors in the Ministry to sign people up for donations and pledges. She sometimes felt as though warnings with her face were plastered all over the lunch rooms, because people tended to hide when she appeared.

Nonetheless, she felt chuffed about a day well spent when she packed up, walking to Draco's office to meet him.

"Is Lucius coming home with us today?" she asked, leaning on the doorjamb and watching her lover pack his briefcase neatly.

"No, he came down about an hour ago to say he'd be about half an hour late. You weren't there. He was quite desolate to have been deprived of your presence."

Hermione pouted. She must have been off championing. "But he'll be home before Celeste, Michael and Thello arrive, right?" Thello had had the potions convention to attend, but Michael had owled them to say the speaker he'd been going to see had been rescheduled to lead discussion the next day instead. Hermione was secretly very pleased, because she found Celeste a little intimidating, and she quite liked Thello.

"Of course," Draco assured her, taking her arm and leading her to the elevators. Their relationship wasn't quite public, but most people in their department seemed to accept that there was something between them. "He wouldn't expect us to host without him."

"Doesn't trust us?" she quipped, knowing full well that she shouldn't be trusted hosting a dinner. She was epically unsuited for that type of formality, though Lucius seemed to take great pleasure in teaching her more quickly than she could possibly absorb.

"And rightfully so," Draco agreed easily. They had the elevator to themselves, and Draco wasted no time pushing her against the wall and snogging her quickly and efficiently, leaving her mouth swollen, hair dishevelled, and eyes glazed by the time they arrived at the common Floos.

True to his word, Lucius arrived just as Hermione was stepping out of her shower. The door to her bedroom was knocked upon, and Lucius announced himself. She wondered if Lucius or Draco would ever get to the point where they would enter her room without such propriety, but she suspected it was so ingrained that they would never think to stop. She wouldn't mind; though as an only child she was used to having her own room, years at Hogwarts and camping with Harry and Ron during the war had fairly demolished any sense of personal space.

"Come in!" she called, walking to her wardrobe in a short white towel. She had absolutely no idea what to wear.

Lucius and Draco both stepped into her room. Draco immediately lounged on her bed, dressed immaculately in dark green dress robes, a perfectly knotted black and green tie at his throat. His hair was loose, straight in a way her hair could only envy from afar, hanging to his chin in a silver-blond wave.

Lucius came up behind her, enfolding her loosely in his arms. She didn't lean back onto him, knowing that her wet hair might ruin his pristine garb. Lucius was wearing charcoal robes in a style very similar to Draco's. She wondered briefly if they had coordinated purposefully.

"And what are we wearing this evening?" Lucius purred, mouthing her neck with intoxicating deliberation.

"Oh, I don't know," Hermione sighed, frustrated. "You pick."

She went back to the bathroom and performed an unwise drying spell on her hair before twisting it in an angry chignon. After applying only the most basic make-up, she re-entered the room. Draco was gone, but Lucius met her with a dark red cocktail dress. It was wonderfully simple, with a square neck and thin straps, fitted bodice and slightly flaring skirt. She had no idea where it had come from, but that was true for a lot of clothing in her closet.

"Lovely," she said, taking it off the hanger and tossing it onto the bed to wait while she picked out undergarments. After a pointed look to Lucius, who smirked and turned around, Hermione quickly dressed.

Lucius pointed at a pair of black pumps by the bed, and Hermione tried not to grimace. She would never get used to wearing such shoes, and she hated the sound they made as they echoed hatefully throughout the massive manor.

"You look beautiful," Lucius whispered, tenderly cupping her face and kissing her.

"I don't know why I'm nervous," she admitted, smoothing the dress over her slim hips.

"You needn't be," he assured her. "Thello adores you and Celeste and Michael find you charming."

Hermione scoffed. "There is no way Thello adores me."

Lucius shrugged in that annoyingly aristocratic way of his. "Maybe not in the obvious and overbearing way you're used to, but he does. Now, you're ready, yes?"

Draco was greeting the other triad by the time Hermione and Lucius made it downstairs. Her lips were decidedly swollen, and she'd discovered that when Lucius asked if she was ready, it was sometimes just a plot to make her become un-ready with kisses.

Greetings were exchanged, and Thello even gave Hermione a one-armed hug, which she returned two-armedly, smiling at his discomfort. Slytherins.

Celeste was coolly polite, kissing the air beside Hermione's cheeks before following Lucius into the dining room where dinner was waiting.

Hermione brought up the rear, wishing she'd had Harry over to set up her gaming system. She made a mental note to ask him to come over in the next couple days. It might also be a good time for him to get used to the idea of her living with the Malfoys.

Draco and Thello began a quiet conversation about potions and the speaker Thello was going to see the following day. Celeste and Lucius were discussing Ministry policy, and Hermione thought about joining in that conversation, but Michael was looking pleasantly disinterested, so she engaged him instead.

"So, what exactly do you do, Michael?" she asked, catching the softest of winces on Lucius' face, causing her to wonder what she'd said wrong.

But Michael didn't appear to mind for he answered brightly, "I work in an apothecary, actually. In Diagon Alley. It's very small, but we get a lot of repeat business."

"Oh, that's lovely!" Hermione had always had a soft spot for retail. She often wondered if she'd be happier in a job like that, but she knew she was needed in her own. "Very fortuitous, with Thello being a potioneer," she continued.

"Ah, well, the employee discount isn't the greatest, but I have access to ingredients that Thello might have a hard time acquiring on his own."

"Why is that?" Hermione questioned.

"Oh, you know," Michael hedged, quickly glancing over to where Thello sat. Hermione followed his gaze in time to see Thello catch Michael's eye and hold it before turning back to Draco. Hermione looked back to Michael, surprised to see him blushing rather furiously. He smiled softly at Hermione, who grinned in return.

Celeste cleared her throat loudly, and this time, Hermione knew the exact cause of Lucius' wince. Hermione internally crowed, knowing she wasn't the rudest one at this table.

"Oh, Thello," she said in a voice loud enough to stop all conversation. "Not your potions talk again? Isn't the reason you go to these conventions so that you'll have someone to talk to who is actually interested? " Hermione knew Celeste was talking about potions on the surface, but she'd spent enough time with Slytherins to see that she was none-too-subtly insinuating that Thello had nothing interesting to say.

"Not at all, Celeste," Thello began, his voice quiet and soft, making Celeste seem braying in comparison. "I go to listen to people who actually have something of note to say."

Celeste laughed, a forced and harsh laugh. She opened her mouth to speak, but Michael interrupted.

"Hermione," he said loudly, causing Thello to look over at him, seemingly chagrined, and Celeste to clamp her mouth shut, eyes narrowed. "Last time we were here, Lucius and Draco were telling us about your efforts to eradicate werewolf registration and make the Wolfsbane potion free to all werewolves. That's fascinating work. I know a werewolf, myself, and he is a very kind and sweet man. He comes into the shop for Wolfsbane ingredients, but he can only afford to have it brewed once every few months. The other transformations he spends locked in a cellar lined with silver. Horrifying, isn't it? The way werewolves are treated? And we call ourselves a modern society." He shook his head sadly, and Hermione was speechless. Thello was looking at his plate, and Celeste was staring at the wall, lips pursed.

Hermione suddenly realized that they must constantly battle like this, with Michael in the middle as the referee.

"Yes," she agreed softly. "Very unfair." A quick look to Thello and back at Michael impressed that she was not just speaking about werewolves. Celeste made a humming noise and very much looked as though she wanted to say something.

Michael and Hermione took up the majority of the conversation, with Michael promising to donate to her foundation, and Thello and Celeste both stating they would as well. Michael even took several of her flyers for the werewolf cause and promised to put them up in his shop. Hermione asked for the name of the werewolf Michael had spoken of, intending to owl him and see if she could do anything to help. The manor had dungeons galore made of impenetrable stone; it would take a lot of convincing, but Hermione might be able to swing it so that he could transform there, rather than scarring and harming himself with the silver cell.

It would never feel like enough, she knew, but it was a start.

Celeste didn't speak much the rest of the night, and when the other triad got up to leave, the sour look on her face had only intensified. Hermione, Draco, and Lucius saw them to the front door, and after saying their goodbyes, Celeste stomped across the lawn to the Apparition point beyond the wards, Thello following only slightly behind Michael.

Hermione watched from the front door as Celeste said something briskly and Disapparated with a muted pop. Her heart broke a little when Thello grabbed Michael and pulled him into a brutal, desperate kiss.

She expected Michael to pull away, but he returned the kiss just as eagerly, gripping Thello's robes as though drowning. Thello pulled away first, caressing the shorter man's cheek with a loving hand. He, too, Disapparated.

Michael stood there, alone, for a few moments. Even from the distance, she could see he was breathing heavily. He raised a hand slowly to his face, and Hermione knew he was touching his lips. And then he was gone as well.

A soft sob left her throat, and before she could even turn, Lucius had her in his arms.

"They are not us," he whispered, wiping a tear away with his thumb and kissing her lips.

"No," she agreed shakily. "But they are them. And they deserve better." Even Celeste deserved to have the whole of someone's heart.

Hermione kicked off her shoes and took them in her hand. She said goodnight to Lucius and Draco, who looked disappointed, but let her go.

She didn't feel like enjoying her triad tonight.